


You are my sunshine

by i_haveno_lyfe



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: A whisker away au, Baz is obviously a vampire, I love my Baz, IDK ANYMORE I THOUGHT OF THIS WHILE GRILLING OK, M/M, Or not, Simon is a cat, Simon is a little shit, Simon turns into a cat when he is in danger, Uh.. yea ik the rating isn't Rahaf-like but oh well, You get what happens next, it's surprisingly wholesome, or not-, shingeki no kyojin typa biting thumb shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_haveno_lyfe/pseuds/i_haveno_lyfe
Summary: Baz is a vampire. Simon always said so, even when Penny and Agatha got sick of him repeating it.Baz is a vampire, he is sure of it.Baz is a vampire, a thirsty one at it, and he happened to prove Simon right just in the worst of times.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wishopenastar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishopenastar/gifts).



> Thanks to Ari for making me do this instead of studying or reading trc so... 
> 
> LOOK THIS CAN BE WHOLESOME AND HERE IS WHY!!!!
> 
> I WILL CLEANSE THE FANDOM OF MENTAL IMAGES OF BAZ DRAINING CATS AND INSTEAD, I REPLACE THEM WITH BAZ TAKING CARE AND PLAYING WITH CATS!!!
> 
> see what I mean? Now lets all collectively say Thanks Rahaf. That's right. I am the boss now. 
> 
> (I am high on sugar ignore me)

Today isn't really the best of days. He knew so when he woke up to find that he had accidentally kicked his already barely-holding-on laptop off the bed and cracked the screen. He knew so when he forgot his maths textbook and got scolded in front of the entire class- with Basilton Pitch, the class president, giving him his coolest apathetic stare.

He knew it when Basilton grinned at Agatha Wellbelove as he passed her desk.

He knew it more so when he tripped and had to endure the orange stain of his juice on his uniform for the rest of the day.

Everything was a mess, and it isn't really a surprising thing for Simon when he's perfectly used to his chronic bad luck, but today was the worst of them all.

His theory was proven when he was going back to his rental apartment on foot, crossing the street when the lights permitted him to, only for a neglecting driver to drive right at him. His sense of danger prickled, hairs standing on end as his heartbeats accelerated to loud thumps in his ear before it all happened.

To the naked eye what happened is a car going full speed at a high school student, and then it's all air. No student. No crash. The driver hits the breaks in a fluster and jumps out of the car, stumbling to the front to look for the boy, the blood, the mess he'd caused.

There was nothing.

Well… not exactly nothing. Simon’s clothes and backpack are lying on the floor, body-less. Formless. It's as if Simon never existed in the place at this time, merely his belongings and a cat nearby blinking at them with wide blue eyes.

“Good god… Oh God. Oh God…”

“But… He was-” the driver stammers next to the panicking pedestrian, waving his arm theatrically towards the concrete in confusion and slight fear.

The cat drops its head down and its body rises and falls as if sighing then it watches as they run circles around one another without knowing what to do. Eventually, they agree to put the discarded clothes and bag aside and act as if nothing happened. Who can blame them? Nothing to report when there isn't a body and no one would take “he disappeared!” for an answer.

It's certainly better than the truth, though, Simon thinks. Simon, now with a vision far below others and a body smaller and somehow harrier. The cat- _Simon_ , hair bright orange with white streaks around the eyes and tail, shakes its head and starts walking away on the path Simon would've taken if he wasn't interjected with the reckless car. He swerves past walking feet and cooing girls in school uniforms, and he takes the next turn he comes across before facing his next horrible luck incident for the day.

Black strands and pale skin is what his eyes land on first, magnetized to their alien beauty as he always is, though every time he sneers and calls him a vampire with no soul.

“Look at him, Penny! Look at him and tell me if this isn't what vampires and heartless villains look like. Everyone is so enamoured by how perfect he is, but if they just _look_ -” he'd always rant, whether it be as they watch their class’s football game or during lunch break. Sometimes Simon rants it at himself in the loo as he does his business while the vampire-looking in question is washing his hands on the other end.

_Look at him_

He always looks, he is looking now as well. And because he never fails to notice every small detail about him he can see that today- no, _now_ is different. Basilton Pitch is paler than usual. His hair is frizzier when it's usually well-kempt, not a strand out of place. His eyes, always cool and icy, are a forest fire. The colour of smoke that rises and hides out the entire blue of the sky. He struggles with a limp as he walks in the shadows on the sidewalk, gaze darting around every single living thing in vicinity, and when it lands on Simon the cat stopping at his feet blinking up at him a dizzying manic relief crosses his face.

“Come, kitty kitty.” Baz coos, voice low and dangerous causing a shudder to run down Simon’s spine. He walks to a small dark alleyway and clicks his fingers towards Simon who instinctively walks after him without hesitation. He's curious, that's what it is. He has to know what Basilton Pitch is aiming for.

“Kitty~ yes, yes good kitty. Come here.”

Simon thinks that this is very unlike his heartless classmate to be nice to animals and call at them, then he thinks that this is specifically why he should be running for his life.

Back in 7th grade, Simon was excessively surprised to learn at school that cats see the world in black and white, because to him he always saw them in colours, vivid and so so alive. Even in his cat form everything shines and lustres in all the colours and some more, so he explains it to himself with “I am not just a cat.” and thinks of it no more.

Right now he can see the red hue in Bastilton’s eyes and the blue on his lips, his teeth shine white and his canines lengthening till they push at his bottom lip and beyond.

_Vampire_

Simon's blood runs cold and his tail stands. He should hiss as any cat would, but he's rooted in place by the desire to scream “I knew it!” and to perhaps flee. To be honest with himself, he wasn't really sure his classmate was indeed a vampire. He wasn't even sure they existed (at least in this side of town or so casually amongst everyone. Or maybe he didn't believe they'd be highschool pretty boys with clipping remarks and skin unharmed by the sun- though it does pink nicely) so seeing that everything he ever claimed about him is true he falls into a state of “Now what?”.

Basilton approaches. Basilton kneels to him. Basilton’s cold hand drops to orange hair and strokes over his head and between his ears- not comfortingly.

Basilton grins, and his fangs gleam.

“Dinner.” He states, and he picks Simon up.

\- - -

Simon opens his eyes.

There was no pain. No smell of blood.

There was no warmth, still, but the hands holding his middle aren't squeezing and stopped. Simon’s small legs dangle in the air as he blinks up at Basilton, irises blown wide in the dark, and the vampire frowns at him in so much contempt that Simon is surprised he isn't yet drained to a lump of bloodless flesh.

“You look so much like him…” Basilton murmurs, sneering as he spits the words out. “Just like him- bloody hell.”

He drops Simon to the ground and sinks his face into his hands, groaning and shaking as he digs his palms into his eyes. Simon wants to tell him to stop, to cease this pathetic act after finally proving himself a heartless monster, after nearly killing him, but all that comes out of him is an irritated meow as he paws at Basilton’s arms and clings to them.

He hisses and pulls again, plastered to Basilton’s body as he attacks him with feeble gestures, and Basilton finally drops his hands and stares at him with contemplative eyes and a soft expression that halt Simon in place.

“So like him…” he whispers again, placing his hand on Simon’s hair once again. This time, however, his touch is less purposeful and more caring, stroking behind his ears and across his flank. Simon glares at him- nothing annoys him more than Basilton Pitch petting him like a small fragile thing and oh god yes there-

He pouts, the act looking cute on him in his cat form, and he reluctantly tilts his head back so Basilton can scratch his chin in the place he likes best. He hates him more for it.

“You don't look like a street cat.” He says as he takes good care of all Simon’s itchiest places that Simon is now practically laying in his lap, a purr forced out of him despite his best efforts. “Did you get lost? Should we find your home?”

At first, the luxurious treatment deafens him to what was being said, but when Basilton says it again and aims to stand so he can do exactly what he suggested, Simon pushes his head against his chest and rubs it there, clinging to him while his mind repeats “No, no please oh shit just leave me and go” because nothing will be worse than Basilton holding on to him for the entire day only for Simon to turn back to human. And not just that, but turn back butt naked.

He should've just run.

“Oh.” Is what Basilton says as he goes back to stroking. “Did they leave you? You have no family, don't you?”

Ok, he really should just leave.

He stops purring and he looks up at Basilton whose eyes have turned uncharacteristically soft and the most beautiful shade of grey. The one that isn't smoke and isn't the incoming storm, but what the sky looks like after the rain. What you anticipate the rainbow after.

“I know what that feels like. It's terrible, isn't it?” He says and waits for no answer as he stands and picks Simon up with him, cradling him in his arms. “We can keep each other company, I guess. Though now I think I need to find something else for Dinner… I don't think I can harm- I…” He shakes his head and sighs, falling silent.

There's no way out of Baz’s grasp as he takes him away with him to the vampire castle, which is just a big fancy house where other small children hug his legs and his father stares at him and his mother (stepmother? He remembers a big talk about Natasha Pitch dying back in elementary) urging him for real food dinner. Basilton passes, and he hugs Simon further to his chest and away from view as he climbs up the stairs and to his room.

For his part, Basilton is really efficient. He bathes Simon and dries his hair tenderly. Then he rummages in his drawers to produce silk bands that he braids into a collar that he hangs a bell onto and ties loosely around Simon’s neck. They're bronze, blue, and yellow in colour. “Like him.” He says, and Simon is reminded he has no clue who Basilton keeps talking about, but he assumes Basilton had a pet before who looked like Simon’s feline form that Basilton wasn't able to harm him. He must thank that animal’s spirit for saving his life.

Basilton fetches an old comb and starts grooming him idly as he sucks on a straw from one of his limited emergency blood packs, and all Simon can think of is this is really not what he signed up for when he woke up today. This is not a side of Basilton Pitch that Simon wished to see, and he has no idea what to do with this new information. It's disconcerting, to say the least.

Basilton isn't nice. He shouldn't be proved wrong. He doesn't want to be. He doesn't know what to do if he is.

“I too lost my mother,” he starts and Simon jolts in place. He soothes him with a few chin scratches that Simon instinctively melts to and then he resumes his grooming. “I was very young back then and I didn't know what it means that I cannot see her again. I kept asking my father when she'll be back from her travels. He always said ‘Not now, Baz. She is very busy.’ It took me time to realize she will never come back. That she can't.”

 _Baz. Baz_. Simon repeats the name in his head as he turns his eyes to him.

“It must've hurt, losing your family like this. I am sorry. I am not the perfect replacement, I am a shitty one, but I'll try my best.”

Curse him for this. Curse him and his vampirism and his entire family, his castle, his very soft bed, good comb, and fucking amazing skill in giving scratches because Simon shouldn't be feeling those things he feels after listening to him. So what that he said nice things, everyone does. So what if he has scars? Everyone should have them. He's more human now, so what?

Who gave him the right to have this crease on his brow and those unshed tears in his eyes.

Curse him!

Simon pouts further and stands on his four limbs, knocking Basilton's- _Baz’s_ \- hand aside, and he locks his intense glare at him before giving in and climbing his lap then chest to rub his face against his cheek and wipe the tear that escaped. He moves his head up and down, back and forth, and he feels his cheek warming under his fur before the shaking starts. For one fearful moment he thinks Baz might be sobbing, but when Baz’s hand holds him up and above his face, his eyes bright and his giggles rising, Simon is struck dumb.

He’s laughing.

His face is joyous. His expression is childish. Everything about him extrudes happiness and innocence and pure _pure_ adoration that Simon is reminded vividly of the fact Baz is just a boy his age. A normal boy who loves animals, who lost his mother, who loves talking and taking care of small things and cooing at them. That despite the fangs and the cravings he just wants to be comforted… Just like Simon.

“What should we call you, then, you little devil? I would name you like him, but I would cause my father a stroke. I can't call you sun, as well. Nebula? Wait, are you a boy?” He frowns and turns Simon over.

 _That's it! I'm leaving!_ Simon thinks frantically as he struggles in his hands with Baz shamelessly checking if he really has what it takes to deem him a male. When he's satisfied with his discovery, he faces Simon’s pissed face again and laughs, rewarding him with a couple of scratches.

“Sunshine. You're sunshine. You look and smell just like the sun.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be studying but I am doing this and I am nearly falling asleep pls excuse any errors hhhhhhhhhh I am just serving the fandom some fluff after all the angst on booktwt. Please someone do some art for this.   
> I need sleep.

“You must be kidding me.” Simon groans as he pleads Penny with his eyes and the not-very-subtle pout of his lips. He nearly kneels in begging, though there’s no telling what he expects her to do when it wasn’t even a choice, to begin with. Agatha next to her sighs and plays with her pen, eyes alternating between Simon and something behind him.   
  
“I am so sorry… It wasn’t my choice.” She says, and Simon knows she’s right. She didn’t decide to be paired up with Agatha instead of Simon for their biology lab, nor did she pair Dev and Niall together so that Simon will then be paired up with the one person he wishes not to be paired with.   
  
“For the record, I hate this as well.” The paired devil announces behind Simon. He wheels to give him his seething glare, and he is surprised to see it mirrored back for a few seconds before he feels the satisfaction sinking in.

_ Yes. This is the ~~Baz~~ Basilton he knows. This is the very familiar sneer. _   
  


_ He isn’t the laughs and shining eyes and fond tender strokes of fingers.   
  
_

_ He is just the angry vampire-looking Basilton. _

Last night Simon had waited out till Baz fell asleep, curled on the bed with his hair fanned out like black silk and his hand still on Simon’s head, halted mid-caress. He had played with him using a yarn ball till Simon nearly collapsed in exhaustion, then he fed him tuna until Simon couldn’t take it anymore. It was all too endearing to comprehend and Simon was overly glad when he succumbed to sleep and allowed him to contemplate. 

However, contemplation in Baz’s room wasn’t an option. He can see every private piece of the boy that he didn’t and never shared with the world, and with every sweeping glance he captures something new in his vision. Even when he closed his eyes Baz’s scent invaded his nostrils that all his mind can think of are cedar and bergamot and blood. 

He wiggled from beneath his hand and pushed the window open with difficulty. It wasn’t a high jump, but Simon didn’t risk it lest he breaks something while still within the vicinity of the vampire castle. So, he jumped onto the windowsill, walked the edge till a nearby tree, then he used said tree to buffer his jump till he was back on solid ground. He ran away.

Getting home wasn’t hard. He remembered how and which ways Baz took to his house and then backtracked them. He found his bag and clothes discarded on the sidewalk still so he pulled it along with his teeth till the same alleyway he nearly became a meal in, then he slumped down and let the magic flow and evaporate. In a couple of seconds, he was back, all flesh and hands and feet. All skin, all naked. 

Dress, stand, go home. The plan seemed set from that moment on, and Simon didn’t allow himself further thoughts that night in exchange for just getting some sleep. This morning, however, he can see that he should’ve given it better thought because Basilton Pitch looks like his pet ran away (it did) or simply died (possibly, to him). The frown is permanent on his face and his scowl is ever-present whenever Simon as much as breathes.   


“Good! I hate it too!” Simon shoots back, all barbed wires and hissing, which Basilton blinks at contemplatively then shrugs.   


“Yes, you just made that clear as well.”

“It won’t be that bad. Look at it as a test in holding your wits together,” Penny offers, grimacing at Simon’s growl at Basilton staring blankly at him. “It shouldn’t be hard. It’s just one Lab.”

“You expect much from him.” Agatha murmurs near Penny’s ear, leaning over her, and Basilton snickers behind Simon and clears his throat.

“Perfect. Just so perfect! If I kill him, I am blaming you.” He points at Penny as he walks away.

“Bold statement.” Basilton mumbles under his breath, sighs, then gets back in his seat to continue acting like Simon is an annoying pest. It continues being so throughout the day with his occasional glares and intense staring, then resumes it in Biology lab as they try testing osmosis by cutting potato strips and measuring the change in length after submerging them in solutions. They fought over the ruler, squashed a strip, toppled over a glucose petri dish, and nearly lost marks for yelling at one another. Basilton isn’t impressed.

In fact, he is totally unimpressed that he collects his bag and leaves right at the same second the bell rings like he knew when exactly it would sound. 

He is totally and utterly unimpressed that Simon is irked to understand how can someone so unlikeable be the same person that cuddled his cat form the day before and played with the bell on Simon’s collar then giggled. Both pictures are too starkly different that it makes absolutely no sense. 

Simon takes his bag and leaves as well.

He says goodbye to Penny and Agatha, runs out the school gate, then goes straight home. He doesn’t stay there, however, because he never intended to. He won’t rest easy until he finds out all the secrets to Basilton Pitch and solves all his puzzles. He won’t be okay till he  _ understands  _ how can all those versions of Basilton-Baz-Vampire be the one and only Basilton Pitch.

\- - - - -

Simon looks down from the rooftop of his apartment complex building. Bronze curls whip back by the breeze. Blue eyes determinately look forward and below.   
  


Heartbeats go fast. Then they go slow.  
  


A deep calming breath.   
  


Falling of lids.

  
Then he jumps.

\- - - - -

Paws instead of feet and hands, fur instead of skin, and a tail working right and left are there when Simon lands on the concrete below. He shakes his body for effect and licks his paw in a very feline way before he starts making his way on the now-familiar path that he was carried on the day before by very cold yet gentle arms. 

The belled collar that he made sure to place back around his neck jingles happily as he jumps from the stairs to sidewalks and onto fences. It keeps him company as he goes through the forest around the vampire castle, amongst the low leaves and tree trunks allowing shade and giving the feeling the place is its own world, undisturbed.

When he emerges, twigs caught in his tail and the top of his head, cat Simon treads to the back porch of the castle and paws at the garden back door. He pushes and scratches (He feels satisfaction at leaving marks on the pristine wood), waiting till someone opens the door for him with his thoughts running wild. Now that he’s in his cat form he can finally lose himself to wonders without worrying someone will notice his withdrawal because he was never good at keeping his emotions from his face.

Penny had told him he wears his heart on his sleeve. Agatha told him his face is too honest to be advantageous.

Basilton told him he looks stupid when he tries to think.

No one comes to the door in two, four, ten minutes. Simon hisses and paws again. Shaking his head furiously till jingles ring loud and clear, then he relents to the urge and starts meowing as well. He steps back and looks up at the castle -house? Mansion?- and meows again. Upon his loud calls and the ringing collar, one window swings open and a dark head peeks out of it with wide hopeful eyes that immediately light up like a Christmas tree. Basilton- no. Baz looks out and grins, relief painted over his face, and he calls out and back to him.   
  
“Sunshine!” He says, then he disappears inside. It takes him ten seconds to come running down to the back garden door and open it to pick Simon up and hug him. His breath smells of mint.  
  


He is wearing a Beatles shirt and striped pyjama pants. 

His hair is up in a half ponytail.  
  


Ridiculous!   
  


“You scared me! I was worried you got lost or disappeared, or my father sent you away, or- You’re back, you smart cat!” He chuckles and raises him up from under his front legs to stare at his face, orange-haired with white halos around his eyes and nose. “Look at you! Were you in the forest? You’re a mess.”

“Meow!” Simon says. To be fair, that’s all he can say, which is his version of “Yes, you idiot. Can’t you see the leaves on me?”

“Indeed!” Baz laughs, gullible to what goes on behind those tiny cute meows. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I made you something, too, which I am sure you’ll love.

Simon cocks his head to the side, one ear flicking with interest. Baz grins, all teeth, and he nuzzles their noses in a very fond manner that Simon baulks. 

“Baz…” A man speaks behind Simon, which is the front of Baz, and Baz drops Simon down before shielding him from the view of the talking new man who turns out to be his father.

“Father…”

Baz’s father leans sideways to peer at the cat behind Baz then arch an eyebrow and look back at his son. He asks him why he’s standing outside barefooted, then he asks him why he’s all flushed up like he ran a marathon. 

He’s going inside in a second. It’s the sun that has him flushed. Also, no, he didn’t neglect his studies, and yes, he did have dinner (Simon thinks they refer to blood, but he isn’t sure). 

When their conversation dies out to just staring, his father simply sighs and glances at cat Simon one last time before goes back inside. Baz lets out a breath and sinks down to the floor, burying his face in his hands.   
  
“Meow?” Simon says, which is his version of “What the fuck just happened?”, but he gets no reply. 

Baz shakes his head minutely though he remains in the same position, refusing to let Simon see his face, hear his voice, understand, so Simon bears his claws and digs them into Baz’s thigh.   
  


“Ow!”   
  


Simon is unapologetic. He cranes his neck further to see his face and climbs up his lap. He paws his hands away to take a clearer look, which Baz drops defeatedly and stares back at him with his grey eyes so light in their colour that they mesmerize Simon on the spot. The sun does them good, he admits.  


“If you do that again I’ll be mad,” Baz says, though his lips curl in a smile and his hand kneads the spot he’d been pierced in to ease its pain. “I am fine. I was just worried Father will make me send you away. He isn’t very fond of cats, you see…”

Simon flicks one ear, which Baz takes as him understanding what he’s saying. He involuntarily caresses this ear between a thumb and pointer, smiling down, and Simon can’t nor is he willing to fight the purr that rises out of him at the thoughtful gesture.   
  


_ Yes, there. Oh,,,heavens,,,  
  
_

“Let us go, shall we?”  


He takes him through halls and corridors. Up the stairs, by doors, and through some curtains. It’s like a maze in this house that Simon never got to experience going through because of fear and restriction. Going out the window seemed more practical at the time. He wondrously glances at all the flashy objects screaming old money strewn about in every corner of the house as they make their way to Baz’s room, and once they enter he is struck yet again by the fact that it’s the most beautiful one in the entire vampire goth castle. Not because of its luxury, but because it’s so Baz-like. It’s timid in appearance, all solid colors and simple patterns, black wood furniture and red pillows. But his desk has sheets of paper with doodles on them, small writings that Simon knows are quotes of different known philosophers and artists, and washi tapes that he uses to stick notes to the wall right above the desk.  
  


‘Replenish blood packs.’  
  


‘Water the roses.’  
  


‘Biology <3’  
  


‘Buy Sunshine food.’  
  


‘Simon Snow is-’   
  


And the rest of that sentence is struck out. Not just once, but multiple times that Simon cannot fathom what was even written there. He finishes the sentence in his head, just the way Basilton would. “Simon Snow is a nuisance.” or “Simon Snow is a huge daft.”. Maybe it’s “Simon Snow is the worst biology lab partner to ever have.”

“You like them?” Baz mumbles as he stares at the notes as well. “I guess it’s because of the glitter on the washi. Do you like glitter?” 

He doesn’t wait nor he expects a response from the cat. He carries Simon to the bed where he uses wet flower-scented wipes on his fur and cleans his collar for him. He drops a kiss on his head so unabashedly that Simon would’ve gone all red from were he in his human form, then he goes to the drawer of his desk with a very excited laugh. 

“I present to you… This!!” 

‘ _This_ ’ is a tiny plastic butterfly hanging from a thread, thread tied to one chopstick that Baz obviously painted black and drew sunrays on. He hangs the toy over Simon’s head with so much enthusiasm in his eyes, so much dedication and love in his smile, that Simon feels compelled to just play along.

He hates him for it. 

Till this moment, Simon accomplished zero understanding of what he aimed to learn, and infinite knowledge in the lengths Baz would go to do something as childish as this. 

He relents.

Simon raises his paws and tries to catch the butterfly, which then rises higher as Baz laughs heartily and swings back and forth over Simon’s head. Simon aims higher, jumps, runs after it, and even tries to snatch it with his teeth as he allows himself to be reduced to a simple-minded cat with the one goal of catching this glittery small thing that keeps moving above him unchecked as if someone gave it the authority to. Not on his watch!

“You love it! I knew you would.” 

Of course he doesn’t. This thing keeps moving and moving and it is acting like it’s so safe from Simon’s claws. It is taunting him. He needs to catch it, and now!

“Oh oh oh! Wait-”

Simon jumps again, taking the butterfly between his paws, and he brings it to his teeth which he gnaws on immediately. Baz simply sighs with a smile.   


Fact number one:  


Baz has a very bright smile, unlike the smirks Basilton has.  
  


Fact number two:

Baz is very cold temperature-wise.   
  


Fact number three:

Thus, he likes cuddling, either his pillow or cat Simon, or both.  
  


Fact number four:

Baz cannot coexist with Basilton, but can coexist with vampire.

Fact number five:

He may really and unironically love staying with Baz and vampire. Maybe too much.

  
  


He ponders on that thought as he sneaks out that night the same way as the one before, dropping to the porch and running out.

He ponders it as he goes home through the small cat door he had installed, and into his room where he stretches on bed and starts to groom himself.

Ponders more as he waits out the magic to fade, feeling it tingle when the moment arrives and letting it consume him till he’s human again, all long freckled limbs and torso (he doesn’t dress back. He just lays on bed and stares at the ceiling).

And he keeps on doing it till sleep hits him, not like a train but as the slow tides crash on the shore, now very common in their visits as he’s tired and burned out by his very eventful days.

He hates Basilton.    
  


He likes _Baz_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually am really soft for this chapter and I transcended past the "Simon is oblivious about his crush" to "Simon has a crush and doesn't know what to freaking do". Thanks, to my "Chill" playlist that fueled this. 
> 
> Also, I did in fact extend this to 5 chapters for plot purposes.
> 
> I love each and everyone who left a comment I am sorry I haven't replied yet but I really do read them all and they make me want to write again :')
> 
> Uh... ENJOY!

Really, Simon isn’t surprised when Baz picks him up and spins him around, beaming up at him with his bright eyes the colour of the early foggy morning when everything is bliss and calm. He got used to the dual personality he deals with now on a daily basis that separating the two -Baz and Basilton Pitch- in his mind isn’t a feat to overcome any longer. Basilton hates him. Baz really adores him.

Maybe it’s not really Baz-Basilton that’s the problem. Maybe Simon is just hated and being Sunshine is the only thing about him that may appeal to the boy. The one who’s left unsure is Simon at the end of each day.

He likes Baz. He hates to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else (especially Penny who knows nothing of all this crazy dilemma), but he does like him in a way he never thought he’d like a boy before. He likes his laughs, the way he pulls his hair behind his ear when he’s studying and looking down. The faint blush that forms on his cheeks after feeding, like blooming roses in a snowy garden at the end of winter. Like the promise of a new spring. 

He likes the neat room, the doodles on sticky notes stuck to the wall. His own name written by him in swirling and curving lines, scratching lines next to it to hide all that he meant to say. It gives Simon the chance to tilt his feline head at it every time he’s on Baz’s desk while the boy is studying, and the chance to let his running thoughts free to roam all the possibilities of what could’ve been written there. It always ends with  _ Simon Snow is a moron who ended up liking Baz. _

Did it help, when he saw him at school each morning, pristine clothes unwrinkled and eyebrows arched perfectly his way in that cocky look he masters as Basilton Pitch directed just for Simon Snow? No. It didn’t lessen his confusion. It didn’t erase the memories of Baz stroking his fur from his mind, scratching behind his ears and taking him in an embrace to his chest, nor did it wipe away the ghost kisses he leaves on top of Sunshine’s head every time Simon lost himself to the purring and grooming and fell asleep, head resting on Baz’s lap. 

“You’re the most beautiful cat ever,” Baz would say when they are alone in his room and no one can overhear him cooing at his cat. “Lovely.” And Simon would bask in praise and clever fingers, and he’d meow at him then nuzzle to the closest place of Baz’s body he can reach.

“Focus, dimwit.” is what Basilton Pitch graces him with during biology lab when Simon peers at him too hard without a pause, trying to figure out the intricacies of Basilton that link him to Baz and to Vampire. He finds none. Or maybe all, but he just can’t see them properly. They do have the same frown when they are concentrating on something. They both bite their bottom lip unconsciously. 

“Is there something on my face? Lab instructions aren’t up there.” 

Simon looks away and grunts a halfhearted “Whatever.” even though the most overwhelming urge he has is to just grip Basilton’s chin and look in his eyes and tell him he knows what he is. He knows all his secrets and all that he hides, and that he still knows nothing at all. 

_ Why don’t you deny it when I tell everyone that you’re a vampire?  _

_ Who would really believe you, idiot? A few nonsensical words from the class clown hardly threaten me. _ That’s what Basilton would surely say. Simon hates him for it.

_ Why are there two- three of you? Why do you hate me? Why is my name on your wall? Why do you hide in your room and avoid your family? _

All the questions he can’t imagine Baz- Basilton’s answers to.

And thus, he became intent on making all those sides of him into one. They have to coexist, and he has to see them as  _ Simon _ .

\- - - - -

“Here.” Simon slides a bar of salted caramel chocolate to Basilton who’s testing glucose concentrations by his side in Biology Lab class. Basilton glances down without moving his head, eyeing the candy bar without heat, nor surprise, nor excitement. In fact, he seems to consider it without emotions at all, face controlled into a stoic expression that’s oddly worrying before he looks back up at Simon and all of his expressions rush back. He arches an eyebrow. Simon grins.

“I bought myself one, too. This one's for you.”

“On what occasion?” Basilton tilts his head his way, sarcastic. 

“Just thought I should bring you one for helping me out in biology and all.” Is what Simon says, when the truth is just  _ I wanted to see you make up excuses for why you can’t eat in front of me now _ . 

“I am not helping you, Snow. That’s the least of what I want to do. I am just worried if I let you manage this I’d end up failing this course because of your airheadedness. I’d rather you don’t bother me further, please.”

“Oh,” Simon says, and he reaches over to take it back, shame pooling in his gut at the words thrown his way, but Basilton stops him with a sneer. 

“You’re taking back your gift? That’s rude of you. Nothing less to expect of you.” 

“Screw you, Pitch!” Simon ends up spitting the curse out and throwing the candy his way. He storms out the minute the bell rings.  


\- - - - -  


Baz sighs for the fourth time in the span of ten minutes. Simon looks up, still purring and pushing his head to Baz’s stroking hand, and he sees Baz nibbling on his lips and looking at the drawer of his desk with a gaze capable of burning holes and seeing through. He’s so agitated over something that’s so unlike his Baz persona that Simon sits up and climbs his chest to face him properly. Baz pets his head and puts him back down.

“I am fine. Just…” 

Simon meows, turns in a circle and faces him again with wide blue and blinking eyes. Baz sighs.  _ Five _ . He glares again at the drawer. 

Simon looks at it as well, tracing the design of it with his gaze, and he finds nothing unusual about it that would evoke such agitation in Baz to the point he’d forget to take out the glitter butterfly and play with Simon with it. Simon isn’t salty over it. He really isn’t. He is just… okay maybe he is.

He jumps from bed to the floor, stalks to the desk, and jumps from floor to paw at the drawer then falls back down. No luck.

He tries again, insistently, and he meets no success in learning the secret of the drawer. He does earn a heartful chuckle from Baz, though. A one that was truly missed and that made Simon’s heart flutter in his chest. He stops jumping and stares back at human-vampire Baz, all teeth and bright eyes and flushed face, and he admires him in the ways he denies himself when it’s Basilton Pitch. He truly is beautiful.

“Ok Ok! It’s nothing you can eat or play with, though.” Baz walks to him and picks him up. He leaves a peck on the top of his head then opens the cursed mysterious drawer finally  _ finally _ , but all that faces Simon's eyes is the same candy bar that he had gifted Basilton. What?

Baz takes it out and brings them all to the bed, vampire, cat and candy bar. He runs his fingers over the wrapper delicately, gently, very softly, that only faint sounds of it reach Simon’s ear. He flicks one of them. Baz looks up.

“Ridiculous…” He murmurs, then he bites his bottom lip again. 

_ Why do you keep it?  _ Simon blinks up at him, too urgent to speak, but his feline form hindering and rendering him mute but for the small curious  _ Uhns  _ he makes out. You didn’t throw it away? You have it in your drawer.  _ Why are you hugging it to your chest? What is Sunshine to you that Simon isn’t? _

Baz lies down on his back and stares at the ceiling. He has taken one bite of the chocolate. A single small bite that he keeps in his mouth to slowly melt and dissolve. His eyes are hooked above, unfocused, half-lidded, and Simon notices the dusting of darker pink on his cheeks as he tastes the candy and rolls it in his mouth. He is mesmerized enough by it that he nears his face and lays his hairy chin on one warm cheek, purring against it, and Baz doesn’t stop him. They remain this way, close enough to feel heartbeats and blood beneath bodies, but far enough for numerous secrets to lie in between.

\- - - - -  


“You are being way too attentive of him these days,” Penny ponders as she flips through her notebook by Simon’s side. She has her hair up in a ponytail of messy curls, and her eyes alternate between Simon’s frowning face to the sheets of paper between her fingers. Simon grunts a no.

“You really are. It’s becoming really concerning. Don’t tell me you’re still on the ‘Basilton is a vampire’ topic because it became old now.”

“No, that’s apart from the vampire thing,” Simon says as he narrows his eyes Basilton’s way, who’s seated in his chair, legs crossed, and a smug expression on his face. He is talking to Dev and Niall, and Simon seethes. Penelope halts in her page-turning and faces Simon with both eyebrows shooting up.

“That’s saying you already established the fact he  _ is  _ a vampire?”

“That’s… Moving on,” Simon groans and frowns further. His eyes are now merely slits. “There is something wrong about him… Can’t you see it? He is hiding something. He always is! This can’t be all that there is to Basilton, I am sure of it.”

“Mhm…”

“I am serious!” He hisses at her. Basilton notices the unrelenting glare and he turns his head to meet Simon’s narrowed gaze head-on. He smirks.  
  


Simon sneers.  
  


“I swear to you! I will prove it. I will find out.”  
  


Basilton narrows his eyes back at Simon challengingly. Simon scowls.  
  


“I say you are being too obsessed about him, Si. Basilton is just a jerk and that’s all there is, you always say that. What’s new?”  
  


What’s new is that he knows what those lips look like when they smile genuinely, and what they feel when they plant soft kisses on his head.   


What’s new is that he heard his laugh, he saw his eyes twinkle, and he saw him tremble in worry.  


What’s new is that he prefers Baz way too much that he thinks of him before he sleeps and when he wakes up.  


And now he has to face what Baz is like when he puts his mean mask on… Or when Basilton puts the nice one on. Simon isn’t sure what to believe anymore.  
  


He’d take vampire Baz over Basilton anytime, despite his previous and rigorous ranting of vampires being monsters, and Basilton being one of them. Baz isn’t a monster. He can never be. Those hands never hurt him nor has he seen him hurt anyone (well, excluding wild animals that he seeks in the forest behind his vampire castle) and those fangs never caused him any agony. Between the two of them, Baz is the most human. Simon is the mutation. Simon is the monster.   
  


The frown etches deeper.  
  


“Nothing…” He tells Penny, shaking his head in defeat, and when he looks back to where Basilton was he finds him gone. He didn’t have time for confusion or panic, for the sight of perfect charcoal black hair and pale skin was within his vicinity, standing by Agatha’s desk, leaning in. Agatha doesn’t lean back.   
  


They talk. He smirks. Agatha looks up at him and doesn’t look down.  
  


“What the hell…” He whispers. Penny nods and says it back. They stare at the scene in mutual anger, though Simon doesn’t fathom why she would be. 

In fact, he doesn’t fathom why  _ he  _ would be. Is he scared for Agatha? That’s meaningless. He trusts Vampire Baz. He knows he’d never hurt Agatha or anyone. Is he worried Basilton would be rude to her? Unbelievable. He knows Basilton barbs his wires just for Simon and maintains his posh and polished surface for everyone else. Is he worried Baz would approve? Untrue. Baz is everything Agatha wouldn’t be enamoured by, and Simon knows. He knows because he must. Because he has to. Because he doesn’t know what to do if he doesn’t.   
  


He hates him for it.   
  


_ Screw you! _ He hisses in his mind. 

\- - - - -

He is  _ not  _ giving in.  
  


Baz is waiting on the porch, shaking his leg agitatedly, looking far and towards the garden. Simon hates him for it.  
  


Baz leaps up when he sees Sunshine, three hours later than the usual time the cat shows up, and he runs to it with relief stark in his eyes.   
  


Simon hates him for it.  
  


Simon doesn’t run and doesn’t meow. He walks lazily towards the back garden and the figure of Baz rushing over till he picks Simon up and inspects him for injuries. He keeps murmuring he missed him and where he has been and why he was late. He keeps stroking his fur and kissing his face. Simon hates him for it.

“You worried me! Ah! I thought something happened and I couldn’t find you anywhere. You should stop playing in that forest!” Baz reprimands while Simon merely blinks at him, all pissy and uncaring before he looks away. Baz frowns.   
  


Good.  
  


“Oh, Sunshine. I may have been busy these few days. I am sorry…”  
  


No-  
  


Baz grins at him and produces the glittery butterfly that immediately catches Simon’s attention in a way he loathes to admit. He doesn’t want to confess how much this shit toy annoys and fascinates him to the lengths of only thinking of it as he tries to capture it. It makes him feel more… feline. 

Baz sets him down on the grass and sits next to him, then he dangles the toy above Simon who does his best not to look at it and act like it doesn’t exist. His ears flick in irritation and impatience. Baz laughs.

“You want it,” He says and dangles it closer, closer than Simon is able to withstand. He would scowl as he does in his human form if he was physically capable of it. Baz doesn’t care. “Just play with it.”  
  


Simon hates him for it!  
  


He jumps. Then he runs. Then he bites at it as he turns circles around himself trying to catch the butterfly Baz keeps dangling his way. He’s too engrossed and pent up with energy and emotions that he doesn’t rest until he claws at it in the end and brings it to his teeth, gnawing away. He is panting and tired and breathless, but he hangs on to it with paws and nails and all feet, and he keeps on biting to his heart’s content. The butterfly is in fact rubbery, which aids in his stress relief. 

Baz sends another jingly laugh his way, all bright and dizzying and so overwhelmingly sweet that Simon would get drunk on it, and he picks pissed cat Simon up to drop numerous fond kisses on his face. Not the top of his head. Not behind his ear.

Simon freezes, eyes wide and irises in slits, and he goes limp in his arms as Baz lies down on the grass and keeps kissing where Simon’s whiskers begin and the top of his nose. He smells of bergamot and cedar and mint and the sun. He smells of blood and tears and salted caramel chocolate. He smells so like Baz, and he kisses Simon a few more times that Simon’s heart expands and nearly bursts in his chest. He’d blush and turn red were he in his human form, but he does run warmer in Baz’s hands and against his very soft lips. He’d never been shown such affection before. Even as a cat, strangers would either coo or shoo him away, but no one had held him as tenderly as he is being held right now, and no one had kissed him with such adoration.   
  


He’d cry, were he in his human form.   
  


He’d kiss him back.  
  


Simon leans in and licks his face once, twice, a few times. He rubs his face against his and nuzzles his neck. He lays on his chest and curls his tail to himself. He purrs to the sound of his faint heartbeat (which he is surprised he has) and in time with his breaths. He thanks heavens that being a monster allowed him to experience this. He curses life for denying him this as a human.   
  


Simon hates him for it.


End file.
